Chapter Text
“Dragons.
They are the creatures of darkness, spawned from the depths of hell, created to lay waste of their fire onto earth and men. Only with swords forged from the hottest of fires and strongest of metals, can one save their bones from turning into dust and the impending chaos these creatures bring.
The only way to survive... is to fight.” -- The Book of Dragons, Introduction, Act I.
By the bank of the shore sat a kingdom of remarkable endeavor. Covered in mist, the residence of Yunmeng stood above the water on piers and rocks, where the wind wafted sea breeze scent through houses, with streams of sunlight flitting in. A sight to behold truly the kingdom was, as lotuses decorated the landscape like a garden in green—
“Prince Jiang Wuxian!” A harsh blow of the stick to the desk compelled the child to tear his gaze away from the scenery.
Jiang Wuxian jolted upright. The boy blinked at his book before him, senses reeling him in to remember that he was having his class. Occupied in an outdoor room, with only pillars to support the roof above their heads, any mind could have drifted off to inviting view, no doubt more captivated by the nature’s sound than long strings of words.
“IThis lowly servant meant not to be rude but,” the tutor had said as he frowned, “It would do you good to pay attention to what I say for once.”
Giggles drifted from students at the back, sweeping a sheepish smile into Jiang Wuxian’s face.
“Had you paid attention to my lecture, you should be able to answer this question. What feature of a fourth class dragon would have that separates it from the other three?”
“Hm...” Jiang Wuxian thoughtfully tapped his chin. “Magic?”
Another whip! of the stick hit his desk.
“The— magnetic poles! It carries its own magnetic poles.”
“And why would it carry its own magnetic poles?”
“They…” Jiang Wuxian scrunched his nose. ‘’Their energy is large enough to interfere with the earth’s magnetic pole. Naturally, this same energy allows them to have more abilities than a common dragon.”
Satisfied, the teacher slithered away from the young prince’s desk.
However, it wasn’t long until Jiang Wuxian’s loud question pulled him to a halt in his tracks. “Question,” he shot up a hand, “why not try to take advantage of dragons and use them? Surely, it’s better than killing them just?”
Such a question had stilled every breath present in the room. In silence, their instructor harbored a look of storm, ready to hail more than a mere heavy shower. The steps he took as he swiveled to meet him were like streaks of lightning, each thud like thunder louder with every inch of proximity closed.
“It seems you haven’t gone past your first lesson yet, Your Highness.” Said the instructor. He loomed over, the sheer impalpable force he had, bent Jiang Wuxian’s will to look at him dead in the eye, the volume of his voice then turned a level of whisper before any possible passersby could listen on. “Dragons are not tools. They are fiends, savages ready to tear you apart. To use them with your head on the line is foolish. It is not a tool if it harms you more than it does you good.”
Jiang Wuxian kept quiet, though the child was smart for his age, he had not think it through.
The teacher pulled back, heading to the front, presumably to resume class.
Jiang Wuxian stayed awake this time, but his mind had long gone; spent in a daze, wondering what it was like to be on a dragon.
…
Childhood passed, and sometime later into adolescence, Jiang Wuxian had grown to be what they call a Yin.
Among the common people, there was a pair of soulmates, the Yin and Yang. Rare had been the existence of these people, and the only way of telling who was a Yin or Yang was if the person experienced an overflowing energy of either one.
But these people, their beauty was phenomenal. In the case of Yins; from the softest of skin, to softest lips, a certain charm had clung onto them too, an essence which could easily capture favors and bids from many. They were exceptionally full of talents as well; it was said that all of Yins (and Yangs) were part of recorded history. However, their beauty and talents had also come with a price— Yin, though exceptionally ethereal, were more frail in terms of health due to the abundance of their cold energy, rendering them much more vulnerable to risks of health. Throughout the history where there were only a handful of these pairs of soulmates, two had lost their hearing after presenting, one lost their ability to speak, but most of them had been lost to a form of disease.
Inevitably, this development imposed some barriers in his life.
For one, his father, Jiang Fengmian, the emperor of Yunmeng forbade him from joining the other students in dragon training since then- which upseted him because he was truly looking forward to it. Secondly, not one step was to be set outside the palace’s perimeter, but he had trips once in a while- after all, it was a duty of a prince to keep in contact with his own people too. Thirdly, it brought forth a personal class about the dynamics he had to attend. He didn’t understand the need for the class, but apparently there were preparations, mannerisms, courtesies for him to learn as a Yin. Some aspects were interesting, he’d admit, the new knowledge helped him gain more understanding about his own body, and well... about the heats, too. There were herbs for him to take to lessen the cramps he would get now and then.
But once there was no more useful things for him to learn, the class became a constant headache. A few teachers had stepped in, to teach him what was proper, improper of a Yin, and he had no longer looked forward to the sessions. Constantly, he disobeyed every decree the teachers tried engraving into his mind, adamant in refusing to become the perfect Yin they perceived in their minds. In the end, it was hopeless trying to teach the rowdy young prince, and his father had to apologize, paying them a good amount of money for their efforts.
The young Jiang Wuxian rejoiced, thinking it was all finally over.
It was not though. The empress made an absolute sure of that.
Security soon tightened in exchange for no longer having classes. A disciplinary head was put in place to mind the young prince’s manners, and the time limit for his small trips around the kingdom had been shortened. It was stifling, he hated it, watchful eyes were always following him no matter where he went, he wanted to get out, he hated it, he hated it—
"The empress hates me!" Young Jiang Wuxian had whined into a pillow, punching the sheets with his fists for a count of too many times. "She hates me, she hates me!"
“You should have listened to the new teacher in the first place.” Jiang Cheng mindlessly said, being an absolute no help at all, as he flipped through a book. “You wouldn’t have been trapped here then.”
“But she was so strict!” He complained. “She told me to hold the cup of tea, so I hold the cup just as she told me to, but then she’d started hitting my hand with her fan! Can you believe that? She started scowling at me then, and said, ‘that’s no way to hold the tea!’ and I was just like… it’s tea? Why do I have to hold it in a certain way to drink just because I’m a Yin? I simply chose the less complicated way to hold it!”
Jiang Cheng hummed, silent for a short pause. “You should have just listened to her either way. It's not like you have much choice.”
“I changed my mind,” Jiang Wuxian began sulking, “everyone hates me.”
"No one hates you." Jiang Wanyin finally tried to hearten him at last, but not before rolling his eyes with a sigh. "You're just overreacting. Dramatic. I think you're also forgetting that everyone has eyes on you now that they know you're a Yin."
Jiang Wuxian still screamed no less.
It sparked an inkling of envy he started harboring for his brother. Jiang Cheng had grown to be a fine young man, one of the normal people whose feet and hands were untied. Being normal meant that he could walk about anywhere, with nothing to fret, and no one to paint him as an object. But, Jiang Wuxian couldn't ever bring himself to hate his brother- good heavens, no- for their bonds were like two pieces of strings tied in a knot, far too strenuous to even try to untie.
Still, Jiang Wuxian would always be stubborn, whether he was a Yin or not.
When he one day memorized the security’s routine change of shifts, the prince had taken advantage of it. In the daylight, he soon learned how to climb onto the roof, leap over the high gates, and stray away from any eyes once he was outside the palace. He ventured into the forest then, burying his nose into small spaces, letting himself have the taste of freedom before returning to his cage by every sunset. Making sure to not rouse any suspicions however, he did it from time to time, although by the end of the day, his golds of adventure would be spilled to Jiang Cheng; actions told with gestures, sounds loud in exaggeration, and no small details missed. Of course, his brother reacted violently at first, chastising him with a warning every time, but he’d also indulge him later on by listening to his tales. Jiang Wuxian always tried to convince him to follow him on his adventures, but the latter kept refusing.
This went on for a long time, even now as the prince was slowly approaching young adulthood by the age of seventeen. One day, a few people came over from different kingdoms. Interest had coerced the ever so rebellious prince to stay in the palace for once.
“Why are they here?” Jiang Wuxian asked as he peered into the atrium.
These people had all been dressed in fancy robes, a sign that each of them bore a status above a commoner.
“They look like swordsmen.” Jiang Cheng answered, above his head. “His Majesty probably requested for their company. Winter is approaching, after all.”
Ah, winter. Jiang Wuxian ooh-ed in understanding.
Winter was the peak of time when Yunmeng would meet all of its troubles. No matter how much their effort, the outcome had always been the same with critical injuries sustained by the army, a huge amount of their livestock snatched away, and far too many buildings to be fixed and built. Therefore, it made sense that their father wanted to take new further measures, so their people could live without anymore havoc wrought by the dragons. Yet, Jiang Wuxian still wondered, what plan did they have in mind to involve these newcomers’ help?
Dusk soon painted the sky with purple, pink and orange hues. No clouds were in sight, giving leeway to the stars that would glimmer bright, and for the moon’s chance to light up the dark as the sun rests.
In order to sneak out of his room for the umpteenth time, Jiang Wuxian successfully distracted the guards by sliding a flat metal object beneath the door and propelled it far to where he knew would create a loud noise. They were too predictable, he almost wanted to laugh when they had immediately gone to check. Sliding out of the door was then easy, but he had to hurry his way down the corridor if he didn’t want to be caught.
He tiptoed down the corridor, every step he took a silent note as he stuck to the walls, trying to keep himself out of sight. He searched for the place of his interest, the place where the meeting would be when he spotted a streak of light spilling out from an opening crack in one of the enormous doors.
‘Found it,’ he smiled, victorious. Voices fleeted outside from within, and one of them he recognized it to be his father’s own. With tentative slow steps, he crept towards the door, settling by the frame where he could hear the words.
“It’d be best if we try to lead all these dragons into one spot,” he could hear the emperor's suggestion. “I believe there would be least casualties inflicted on our people then.”
“We could lure them by gathering several herds too,” one had offered, “possibly in a spot that's far but not too far from the kingdom.”
“Good idea.” Another praised, “that way, there’d be less chance of any buildings falling to ruins too.”
Head slanted, he was about to peek into the doorway when a presence behind him alarmed loud rings in his head.
He could feel the aura; ominous, but not quite so either. It was prominent, palpable, too intense for him to ignore as the threads of it had him seized by his feet, commandeering his attention, and then— he smelled it. Fresh sandalwood, crisp and mint, filling up his lungs so pleasantly that it quickly took roots in his heart with no mercy. Like a puppet on strings, his head was pulled to the side.
His eyes trailed, and— something zipped.
Blue met gold.
The bright sun met the cold moon.
An untamed Yin met a steadfast Yang, for the very first time.
It felt like electricity. Like two zigzags of sparks meeting at one point. Said electricity burned into his skin, and the quiet buzzes bled into his ears as his heart roared to life.
His eyes, blurred at first, eventually cleared up to see that the Yang who stood a few good inches above him, a band of silk in cloud patterns tied around his forehead, as layers of blue and white luscious robes adorned him, a belt of sword attached to his hips. The color of his robes— this person was from the Kingdom of Gusu. Quickly, Jiang Wuxian recognized who this person was, for he had been among the young students in the hall earlier.
Jaw refined, nose a perfect blend of softness and sharpness, and his lips— they had been the perfect shade of temptation. “Who are you? Why you are here?” And, oh. His voice. Albeit filled with suspicions, accusations, it was rich, timbre, so delicious to hear.
Jiang Wuxian felt his legs tremble slightly, but he refused to give in.
He heard of the Yang. They were the other half to the Yin, the opposite side of the scales that brought balance in between them. But these people were not as vulnerable to diseases as the Yin, a small detail that caused a view of imbalance between the two equal soulmates. Too often, it was said that these people were easy to be detected in the crowd of even thousands. Jiang Wuxian felt that this had never been more true.
It had taken the prince more than a solid moment to reply. And when he did, it was with a cheeky smile, hoping it was enough to cover the audible tremors in his phrase. “Oh, just taking a night’s walk. Why? Can't I do that?” he replied.
“A-Ying? What are you doing out here?”
An unexpected voice had caused him to rip away, turning to the emperor who had just exited the hall with a few more men at his tail.
“Your Majesty!” He yelped. Jiang Wuxian hurried to give a bow upon being caught twice in a row.
Unfortunately though, there was no time for him to come up with any excuses. Because an unexpected sound of a gong resonated throughout the palace, throughout the whole kingdom; louder than a thunder had ever reached their ears from within, deeper than any dread had reached their hearts. It filled everyone’s minds, leaving only one thing in their mind while any rest of the thoughts were wept out.
Jiang Fengmian then whispered a word, too quiet, but shaking nonetheless.
"Dragons.”
Too soon. The dragons had come too soon. The kingdom, nor were the fighters, had been prepared.
“Esteemed guest, Lan Wangji, please make sure the prince gets escorted back to his room.” His father instructed the other, then directed his words at the prince next with an intense stare. “Do not step a foot outside.”
Then, the emperor left, ultimately leaving Jiang Wuxian behind in the hands of Lan Wangji.
Without any second delayed, Lan Wangji began to escort him to his room, disregarding any of his whining complaints.
The pace within the palace had turned rushed then, wilder than it had ever been before. The war barely began but Jiang Wuxian had already heard shouts and explosions coming from outside the palace. When the two passed through the corridor with windows leading to a big balcony instilled, the prince managed to take a glimpse of the outdoors.
Chaos couldn’t even come close to what had unwrapped in the Kingdom of Yunmeng. Flames danced back and forth between the buildings from far, its untamed tufts brightening the dark sky with an orange tint. There was also smoke rising into the clouds, and figures of winged creatures flying in the air.
“Second young master Lan, Hanguang-jun!” A man had yelled out to him from the other end of a hallway ahead. “The townsfolk residence a mile away from the palace has caught on fire and we are short of hands!”
Since Lan Wangji had no choice but to be immersed in the impromptu discussion carried out with the rest of the fighters, Jiang Wuxian took this chance to exit balcony for a good look now that he was left unattended.
It was a gruesome sight, one can't deny. He could hear his people’s screams in clarity, the destruction of clay and bricks colliding with each other, while the dragons took and took.
Then not long after, a melody shrilled from the sky, and it punctured through him, like a flow of wind whistling through bamboo, carrying a piercing tune that could send chills down anyone's spine. In the distance, Jiang Wuxian saw what made the unholy sound. Something black, zipping from one cosmic dust to another, and it wasn’t long until he heard a man tending the palace’s catapults shout, “It’s Chenqing! Take cover!” before a powerful blast of red struck few of the weapons, the dragon’s melody ending upon a hanging note.
Chenqing. A fourth class dragon, and the only one left of its kind; as dark as the night while the melodies it produced had been lively in contrast. The strangest thing about this dragon was that it never stole food, never showed itself, and…
There was a sound of an explosion. A tower collapsed under Chenqing's bursts of attack.
… it never missed.
Being at the balcony granted Jiang Wuxian a greater opportunity of watching a scene where many events unfolded at once. From here, he could see things that could have gone unnoticed by the people engaged in war. Said unnoticeable details included the said dragon's demise.
Collapsing the tower turned out to be Chenqing’s fatal mistake. Piles of rock had gone tumbling onto the catapults, causing such an impact that had a few nets released at once. As Chenqing zoomed through the sky, away from the ocean, almost close to the palace, Jiang Wuxian watched as one of the nets entangled it in a web. It happened to be the kingdom's pure stroke of luck that the dragon could no longer attack, met the beginning of its end as it went plummeting down into the forest at south-west with a loud piercing cry.
The dragon had fallen. Chenqing had apparently been caught.
Jiang Wuxian held in his breath. A second, two, then three passed, and it gave his inkling a confirmation. No one had noticed the catch, for all were too busy engaging with the creatures in front of their eyes.
And so, Jiang Wuxian was left with a new mission, and his heart tingled at the thought of it changing his destiny. If he captured the dragon, kill it and bring its head to his father, would he finally roam the world free? He could finally be free! He buzzed at the thought.
Jiang Wuxian patted his pockets, checking for a compass, more than relieved to find it there.
Then next, he started to take off the 3 layers of his robes, rolled up the cuff of his pants beneath, as he began to daydream about the freedom he once lost but was determined to get back. The prince planted his heels firmly against the cement, fists clenched, and— he took off, ready to make a jump for the roof, that was– until a rough pull on his collar had forcibly dragged him back.
He nearly stumbled back onto the ground with a small yelp.
“Ouch, hey! ... Oh,” Jiang Wuxian faltered, whirling around to meet Lan Wangji; the man who was supposed to escort him back to his room.
Right. His escort.
He had almost forgotten.
A nervous smile reached the young prince's lips, “... Um, hi? Care to release me so I could go fight the dragons?"
Lan Wangji looked unimpressed– somehow much more unimpressed than he already was before.
“Your imperial highness is in no duty to fight the dragons nor are you to lay a foot outside, as his majesty has commanded.” Lan Wangji disallowed. He stepped up to the prince, head tipped down to meet his gaze head on, then issued a note of finality to his command. “It is my duty to bring you back to your room.”
Jiang Wuxian groaned. He clapped his hands together and shamelessly started to plead the other, “oh, come on! Please let me fight and kill dragons! Just this one time, please? I promise, you let me go, and if I get caught, I won’t tell my father that you allowed me to go— I’ll even let you have a share of my reward! Deal?”
The atmosphere cracked at the cold look in Lan Wangji's eyes, a clear sign that he'd rather be anywhere else than to deal with a spoiled prince. Jiang Wuxian inwardly gulped. He heard of a Yang using their own scent in an act of dominance, affecting not only the Yin but the ordinary people too, but it would seem that Lan Wangji did not need to do so, because one stern look from him was enough. The exterior demeanor this dragon fighter had was deceivingly calm, stoic, vacant of any expressions. It looked as if he never had any taste of emotion in his entire life.
“Without training, you cannot kill a dragon.” Lan Wangji reinstated, unswayed by the prince’s persuasion. “Go back, now.”
Jiang Wuxian pouted. Then, lit up with an idea.
Hands brought up to his mouth, he gasped. “Oh my goodness, is that a dragon on the palace roof?” He pointedly look behind Wangji.
Alarmed, Lan Wangji immediately whipped his head around.
Jiang Wuxian did not hesitate snatching the other man’s dagger which was tied next to his sword. He’d been quick on his feet, gracefully jumping off the balcony onto the roof with the weapon brandished in his hand.
“...?! You—!”
He didn’t look behind to see the man’s face, but he imagined a ridiculous look.
All his time spent sneaking away into the forest had been put into use. He laughed, gleeful with the work of his ruse, and the small achievement fed more fuel into his adrenaline as he skillfully climbed his way down, then beyond the gates.
He landed on the ground with a heavy thunk. Barefooted, no doubt his feet hurt with the grains and pebbles pressing into the soles of his feet. But at the same time, he had never felt so alive.
And his thrill, of running on his feet, to have the wind blasting against his face. He suspected he could never tired of it. The dewy scent smelled so much like home, the cuts on his skin from the leaves left no pain but a sense of home that he never had. It is without question that he felt far more home out here than in the palace.
Jiang Wuxian didn’t want to be locked up in a cage. He refused to be the delicate picture society had painted him as. He refused to succumb to any weakness that was a consequence for his uniqueness. Prince Jiang Wuxian was none of those things. He was more.
He checked his compass, and observed the needle had not been pointing to the magnetic north like he remembered. Fourth class dragons had the ability to affect the compass, after all. So, he followed where the needle led him.
He leaped over the bushes, avoided the chunky roots of trees growing into the grass, and ran towards where his freedom just laid ahead. That was, until he miscalculated his step and missed his footing. A drag of his feet pulled him down the deep slant, explosive strings of curses drawn out from as he rolled through the lumps and knobs of rocks, until he reached the bottom, face planted into the rough dirt and the dagger knocked out of his hand.
He was quiet for a moment before he groaned. Pain pulsated throughout his whole body, and it took some willpower to finally get up. His head hurt, he could feel his hair sticking out all over, clothes undoubtedly all disheveled and dirtied.
A rumbling croon grabbed his attention by the hook. That sound. It came from behind the bushes. Body on the ground, Jiang Wuxian had gone on all his fours, and kept crawling forward until he ended up at the edges of shrubs to peek around the corner.
And there it was, the dragon that would change his fate, Chenqing.
It was squirming to get out of the ropes, writhing with a twist of body and flutter of wings, but all its attempts were in vain. It let out a few pitiful noises, started breathing puffs of fire but it did nothing to loosen the cords, as they shot into the vicinity of the forest, blasting a few trees into smithereens.
Jiang Wuxian scrambled for the dagger he dropped, and got onto his two feet.
Chenqing's attention was immediately drawn to where he stood, all acts of struggling promptly dropped. It ceased moving, stiff and not breathing quite like a statue, yet its eyes fierce and definitely very much alive.
It was the prince's first time being so close with a dragon, much less to fight or kill one, and he took this time to survey the creature that was said to be humankind's enemy. Even under the moonlight, as the plants reflected blue hues, Chenqing managed blended in with it far too well with its small size and black scales. Its eyes— he had expected anything but red. Yet, Jiang Wuxian still found it so hauntingly beautiful.
Gripping tight onto his dagger, he stepped closer to it with arms raised, but Chenqing had done nothing but stare, as though it had been paralyzed by the mere sight of the human.
For some reason, thoughts Jiang Wuxian had back then as a child then started settling in, a child's daydreams where the dragons had not been fiend but friends.
The prince quickly shook off his thoughts. No, this was no time for any distractions. He still had his freedom to earn.
The beast, no matter what, must be killed.
By the time he stopped in front of the unholy fluted dragon, he got onto his knees, arms still raised.
He lifted his hand even further, and further, ready to be swung down with the intentions full of kill, kill, kill.
Yet, Chenqing still did nothing but widen its eyes.
Jiang Wuxian looked into them. He had to look into them anyway, compelled by some whisper from the back of his mind. Sucked through the red pools of galaxies, a whole another universe seemed to be staring back into his poor unfortunate small soul. In that moment, the dragon looked so scared, so lonely, begging for mercy, and then— it grumbled another pitiful whine, closed its eyes and rested into the grass for one last time, perhaps accepting its demise.
Dragons were beasts, ready to cut a head anytime, and it knew no mercy. He knew this, everyone in the kingdom knew this, just as much as everyone from all the other kingdoms knew this too.
Jiang Wuxian brought the dagger down in a swift.
But he stabbed into the dirt instead.
He gritted his teeth, reeling in the urge to scream out his frustration, at his own incompetence.
They had been right, after all. Jiang Wuxian can’t kill dragons because he could not kill them.
Waves of defeat washed over him, dousing him to the tips of his fingers that made him loosen his grip on the dagger. Blinked back the tears in his eyes, Jiang Wuxian tasted nausea which sat at the back of his throat.
At the sound of another whine, he slowly tipped his head up, staring at the dragon who looked back at him with lidded eyes.
“I don't understand,” he whispered, forlorn. “Why can't I do it?”
Of course, the dragon did not respond and only stared.
Jiang Wuxian looked at the dagger, then at the ropes.
Naturally, he did what he thought was should be done next.
He wrenched the dagger out of the soil, baring the sharp edges of the blade to next cut off the ropes Chenqing had been tangled in. It took time, the ropes turned out to be tougher than it seemed, but eventually, they had all been cut off, no longer tight enough to restrict the dragon from moving. Jiang Wuxian took a few quick steps back, cautious of the Chenqing as it began to shake off the loosened ropes off and wiggled out of it.
When it was finally free, the dragon didn’t immediately fly away as Jiang Wuxian expected. Instead, it continued to stare at him; pupils dilated, face no longer looking quite as sharp, and crooned. Then it had done the unexpected.
Chenqing closed in on him, and Jiang Wuxian yelped, backing away with every step that the creature took forward until his back eventually hit the trunk of a tree. Chenqing sniffed him, was sniffing him, and- oh gods, Jiang Wuxian gulped nervously, did it think he was food? Was it going to eat him for revenge? Was he actually going to die right here and—
Chenqing stopped sniffing him. It looked about the forest, ears perking up like a cat. Jiang Wuxian remained unmoving. In the distance, he heard loud rustles of long grasses being pried apart and stepped on.
The dragon glanced at the direction of the noise, then back at him, once, twice, before it decided to leave. Rendered breathless, Jiang Wuxian could only watch as the dragon scamper away, screeching and shrieking into the night. It took a solid moment until the prince realized his eyes hurt from not blinking for too long.
A loud sound of twigs snapped as the familiar figure that's Lan Wangji cautiously slid down the same slope Jiang Wuxian had fallen off, before rushing towards him.
“Ah, Young Master Lan.” Jiang Wuxian said, drawing in the cold air through his nose before he looked to the side, looking at him with a dissembling smile. “Huh, wow, you managed to catch me!”
But, taking a deep breath turned out to be pointless when the air in his lungs got knocked out again.
“Are you hurt?” Lan Wangji had roughly wheeled him around, worry written all into the flow of his gestures— he checked him, inspected him closely, had even gotten onto his knees to check for any injuries the prince may have sustained from head to toe. He stared at his feet, almost glowering as he next said, “and you're barefoot.”
“Yeah, well, I did leave without— ow!”
Lan Wangji had grabbed him by the wrist. He stood as he did, eyes drilling hard into one of the forming bruises on Wuxian’s arm alongside one that cuts on his cheeks. The creases on his forehead wrinkled even further. “What were you thinking?”
“What do you think I did?” Jiang Wuxian then blurted out, “ I fought the dragon! Chenqing!”
“Chenqing?” Lan Wangji asked, surprised, his grip slackening on Jiang Wuxian’s hand. Though he said nothing, the look on his face clearly asked, 'how sure are you that it was Chenqing?'
“Yes, I'm absolutely sure that I fought the fluted dragon. I saw it fell down here so I ran quick to catch it.” Jiang Wuxian explained as pulled away his hand, biting his lips. Well- there was no going back now that had said his words. Furthermore, should anyone know what happened- about the truth which he couldn’t kill a dragon, he was sure that there were more than mere consequences for him to pay. What would the people say, he wondered? Would they look at him with scorn, as though he deserved the same fate dragons should meet? What would his own siblings even say— what would the emperor and the empress say?
Needless to say, Jiang Wuxian didn’t like to lie. But he had a face to save. And so, “except I didn’t get to kill it since it escaped,” he said, “but I did get to scare it off. It won’t be coming back anytime soon, I’m sure of it!”
Lan Wangji had only frowned. An indescribable expression swept across his features, before he began regarding the prince with scrutiny, and hints of what may actually be contempt. “Your Highness could have been killed,” he argued.
“Yeah,” Jiang Wuxian countered, “but, I'm still alive right now, aren't I?"
Lan Wangji stared at him.
Jiang Wuxian simply stared at him back.
Lan Wangji looked to the side, and Jiang Wuxian could have sworn he had said ‘ridiculous’ underneath his breath, something which made Jiang Wuxian’s metaphorical feathers bristle with anger. He brushed it off at last with a small huff.
“This one will lead Your Highness back to the palace,” was what the man finally said after a long pause. “And this time, Your Highness will stay put. The kingdom is still under attack, the outside will remain dangerous until the dragons have been rid of.”
And for once, Jiang Wuxian had obeyed; for once, he looked forth to the quietude, sanctity, and the small space of his room instead of the open space. He needed this, thought he’ll have to wash himself first, no doubt, but until then, the young prince needed his rest. After all, he had a whole night to think his future over after knowing that he had failed to do what everyone else would have easily done.
…
Next morning hailed the prince by pouring a basin of light and chirps of birds into his room.
The whole night had not been spent in a wonderland of rest and dreams, but the nightmares brought forth by his own restless mind. He can’t kill a dragon, he was trapped here forever, he can’t kill a dragon, so he will just have to live the rest of his days as a locked up prince. He can’t kill a dragon, and the world out there was full of them.
But, the longer he thought about it, the more he discovered that it hadn’t been the thought of not killing the dragon that bothered him. What bothered him the most was, why? Why couldn’t he kill a dragon? He’d been so sure of his ability, but then something there had held him back. Something changed. Only, Jiang Wuxian didn’t know what did.
A few knocks on his door interrupted his thoughts. It wasn’t long until the servant filled him in with the details. “This lowly one begs for forgiveness to disturb your highness's rest, however his majesty has requested for your presence at the royal hall.”
The morning haze clouded the prince’s mind for a second before the gears in his head finally clicked. Father had demanded for his audience at an early hour. That could only mean one thing.
Make no mistake, Lan Wangji had told on him..!
At this realization, a groan left his lips, and he wanted nothing more than to bite his pillow and scream the world into it, and so, he did just that. A whole moment passed by as he continued rolling around in his bed, bemoaning about his rotten luck, but eventually, he had to make himself look presentable and go.
It felt like walking to his death, he sulked. Asides from the missing handcuffs, shackles, and a guard to pull him along and push him into the executioner site, it felt like he was marching to his own death. He'll just have to put on a brave front until then.
Even then, Jiang Wuxian wasn’t sure if he deserved to face his father with the unspoken failure weighing on his shoulders.
Fortunately, the empress hadn't been there once he reached the hall, otherwise he might really be dead.
“Jiang Wuxian greets Your Majesty.” Jiang Wuxian stiffly greeted the Emperor of Yunmeng, getting onto his knees to him with a pair of outstretched hands.
"Do not stand on the ceremony."
"Thank you for your leniency, Your Majesty." Jiang Wuxian didn't wait for a second to pounce on the matter. “You wished to see me?”
Jiang Fengmian sat on his throne, but the empress was missing– which Jiang Wuxian was glad for because he was sure he would never hear the end of it coming from her. At the side, a few people had stood, and Lan Wangji had been among them as expected.
The emperor had been quiet for the first few seconds. But, once he opened his mouth, not even a dragon’s burst of attacks could compare to the critical hit struck by his chords.
“I’ve heard about your actions last night, prince Jiang Wuxian. Second Young Master Hanguang-jun had filled me in on the details.”
The calm before the storm. Jiang Wuxian may have anticipated it, but it didn’t reduce any of the apprehension he felt. He hung his head in shame, throwing a subtle glance into the direction of the aforementioned man. Yet, Lan Wangji seemed unfazed and unperturbed, as though last night’s incident had not affected him in the slightest. The Yang swordsman stood with shoulders hoisted, with the same sense of dignity he had worn since their first meeting.
Jiang Wuxian sighed and closed his eyes, a sad smile upon his lips. Somehow, this wasn’t surprising. He’d been ready for this, for the day with what’s left of his freedom to be completely stripped away.
The emperor's voice then echoed, "This one is pleased to say that you may undergo the dragon training.”
Jiang Wuxian’s mind had zipped with a blank buzz.
“...”
“What?” He asked, unbelieving, “dra-dragon training?”
“Correct.” Jiang Fengmian nodded. “Dragon training.”
The emperor proceeded to clear out any doubts that his son may have. "Indeed, your actions from last night had been unacceptable for your sneaking out. However, last night's casualties was... undoubtedly the worst one by far as none of us were prepared, but it could have gone much worse had Chenqing still ran rampant. You might not have killed it, but I heard you fought it off. Well done. You have proved yourself. Perhaps next time, you might be able to kill the dragon too."
Casting a look to where Lan Wangji stood, the emperor continued, “Our dear esteemed guest, Hanguang-jun. I heard about your talented skills, both you and your brother have ranked as the top two swordsmen in the entire kingdoms. May I request for you to personally teach my son, Jiang Wuxian, on fighting dragons? Seeing as you were with him last night, I assume it'd be easier now that you are both acquainted.” The emperor then continued in earnest, “accommodation and meals will be provided, as well as extra rewards for your service. That is, of course, should you choose to accept.”
Jiang Wuxian’s mouth hung agape. Others had looked on in the same disbelief.
What a shocking turn of events.
Even Lan Wangji himself had looked astounded, but it lasted for only a split second before he slipped back into his usual calm facade. He opened his mouth next, possibly to speak, perhaps even reject the offer- Jiang Wuxian couldn't blame him after all, not after last night's incident- until the man next to him had stepped up.
“Your majesty. We humbly accept your request.” The man said. He was dressed in the same elegant robes as Lan Wangji had worn, had an almost identical face as his too, but the aura he carried was no doubt lighter and easy that any traces of tension in the air was dispelled. He smiled, “I believe this too will serve as an opportunity for my younger brother. We shall accept this offer to teach the prince.”
“That is good to hear then, First Young Master Lan Xichen. I look forward to the results of training. You may begin the sessions by tomorrow afternoon.”
Lan Xichen bowed, and in respect, his younger brother stiffly followed after him too.
Jiang Wuxian, on the other hand, remained in shock.
Somehow, his fate had turned for the worse than the better.